


silver skies smile down at the rain

by raventiques



Category: K-pop, K.A.R.D (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Pining, Sharing Clothes, jiwoo takes pictures of everything and everyone, let. them. be. gay., matthew and taehyung are hopelessly in love, somin has it bad, sowoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 03:26:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12027099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raventiques/pseuds/raventiques
Summary: Somin wanted too many things.She wanted to dye her hair black again (DSP said no), she wanted to watch My Neighbour Totoro, but Matthew and Taehyung had borrowed the DVD and had yet to return it to her, she wanted to try Starbucks hot chocolate again.She wanted Jiwoo.





	silver skies smile down at the rain

**Author's Note:**

> i'd be lying if i said that this fic wasn't inspired by sleepover by hayley kiyoko. 
> 
> anyways, can you believe that everyone in KARD is gay.

   “If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?” Matthew asked, absentmindedly flipping a coin from where he leaned on his chair. Somin glanced up from her phone, as did Taehyung. The two exchanged glances, wondering where this unprecedented conversation starter would lead to.

   “What?” Matthew stopped flipping his coin, and stared between the two of them. “It's a question.”

   “You're tired,” muttered Taehyung.

   “It's just a question,” Matthew repeated.

   Taehyung gave him a look. “I want you to go to sleep.”

   “It's only a question,” Matthew said. Taehyung rolled his eyes, and went back to his phone. Somin didn’t say anything, purposefully not thinking of the curious question. She knew what she wanted; her life had been full of wanting. Wanting to debut, wanting for people to listen to her. Wanting things, wanting people. A person. One person.

   When it was clear that neither of them were going to answer, Matthew loudly declared “I want a tattoo.”

   He looked between them for a response. The most of a response that he got was Taehyung muttering “I know.”

   Matthew fake pouted at the blunt response.

   “What kind of tattoo?” Somin asked, partially out of curiosity and partially to make Matthew feel better. The poor guy was always filled with energy, always trying his best to be the happy pill of the group. His efforts never went unnoticed, but sometimes, sometimes it could be just a little much of an overdose. Especially when they were exhausted after a full twelve hour dance practice, all they wanted to do was to relax a little bit before they had to wake up at 5AM, and repeat the whole day all over again.

   Matthew’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, bright lights radiating the warmth that winter needed. “I don’t know. Something meaningful.” He looked over at Taehyung, and Somin didn’t know whether it was just a trick of the light, or just Matthew’s American charm, but she could have sworn that he looked at Taehyung differently.

   Taehyung finally looked up, feeling Matthew’s eyes on him. “Why don’t you get a tattoo of a clover?”

   Matthew smiled. “I want an ace.”

   “Stop it,” Taehyung said, with absolutely no force.

   It was then that all of their phones vibrated. And then again. And then again.

   Matthew had taken it upon himself to make a group chat for the four of them the day that they met. The name had gone through a number of changes; mainly Jiwoo and Matthew’s doing. As of now, it was simply ‘Thighs Thighs Thighs’ based on a late night conversation of Jiwoo craving some _chicken_ thighs, but not specifying beforehand, leading to the utmost confusion between them.  

   Jiwoo had sent an influx of pictures, which was what she usually did when she had been locked out of her Instagram account. Essentially, every other week.

   The first picture was of Jiwoo with her parents. The three of them seemed to be laughing about something. Somin couldn’t stop staring at Jiwoo’s enlightened face, her precious eye smile which was slightly covered by strands of blonde hair. Even through a phone screen, Somin could feel Jiwoo’s happiness at being united by her parents, the pure warmth that was radiating from her skin.

   Somin wanted to hold her.

   The next photo was a little more serious, but it was clearly taken after the first, as Jiwoo’s smile was still bright and joyful. Somin noted how Jiwoo was taller than both of her parents, while Somin wasn’t even the same height as her mother or sister.

   The third picture was a selca of Jiwoo, holding a pair of new sunglasses that she wanted to show off. Her lips were curved into an adorable puppy smile, like a little kid showing of their new favourite toy. Somin couldn’t help but want to kiss her.

   Just a little bit.

   Somin thought about Matthew’s question.

   What did she want?

   Somin wanted to kiss Jiwoo, tenderly. She may or may not have thought it out. Jiwoo would be taken by surprise, but would eventually start kissing back, Somin’ hands on Jiwoo’s soft face. Soft kissing would turn in rough kissing, and then Somin would shamelessly be on top of Jiwoo. And then Somin wouldn’t limit herself to only kissing Jiwoo’s lips.

   Somin could feel herself heating up. She quickly sent four heart emojis, and closed the app.

   When Somin looked up, it was now Taehyung and Matthew both staring at each other. Having an unspoken conversation that Somin wasn’t going to bother trying to decipher. And for a moment, Somin allowed her mind to wonder whether what Matthew and Taehyung wanted was possible for them, as well as herself.

   Because if anything, she knew that Matthew wanted a lot more than a tattoo.

 

-

 

   The sound of three simultaneous alarm bells is what woke Somin the next day.

   That and the sound of way too much giggling.

   Jiwoo was stood at the door, her small frame already dressed for dance practice. She had a phone in her hand, and Somin needed no explanation.

   “Ah, no pictures Jeon Jiwoo,” Somin whined, turning to face away from her.

   “Why? You all look so cute,” said Jiwoo. “Why don’t you pose for me?”

   Somin turned around, and gave Jiwoo a fake glare. Jiwoo laughed and took another picture. She turned her phone, and took a picture of Matthew and Taehyung. Taehyung had slept on a mattress on the floor, while Matthew was in the bed right next to him.

   Somin knew that that wasn’t part of the original plan, because when the boys thought that she was asleep, she heard Matthew moaning about wanting to be with Taehyung.

   “You’re all the way on the other end of the room!”

   “Go to sleep, Matthew.”

   “But I need to sleep with you.”

   So they compromised. When Somin was sure that they were asleep, Somin flicked her eyes open, and saw that only Taehyung was fast asleep. Matthew was awake, watching him from his bed above, with such admiration and warmth that it even made Somin’s heart melt just a little.

   If Matthew had noticed Somin staring, then he wasn’t bothered.

   What are the chances of three members of a co-ed group all being gay?

   Okay, that was a lie. Somin had never heard Matthew ever directly say anything, but she remembered him casually mentioning that he’d had ‘things’ with both guys and girls back in America, and that gender wasn’t really important for him when it came to dating. She had no idea about Taehyung, but considering that he’d never dated anyone, with looks like his, the reason why was quite clear.

   Somin was definitely gay. There was absolutely no denying it. All of her life, she’d only ever thought about girls, being with girls, having sex with girls, whether girls would like her back. She was sure that she had had a small crush on all of the girls in April at one point, but those were absolutely nothing compared to her feelings for Jiwoo.

   “Ah, you’re all so cute.” Jiwoo said, going through the pictures on her phone. Her blonde hair was covered with a baseball cap that read ‘love’.

   How fitting.

   Matthew stretched his long arms. “Ugh, what time is it?”

   “Time for you to get a watch,” Taehyung’s muffled voice came through the covers.

   Matthew sent him a playful look.

   “Then buy me one,”

   “It’s my birthday first,” said Taehyung, “so, no.”

   Somin glanced at Jiwoo. The maknae’s expression changed slightly, and for the first time in however long, Somin couldn’t really read it.

   Curiosity? Understanding? Envy? Or a combination of all of the above?

   Because she knew that deep down, it would never happen. She would never know what it’s like to gently play with Jiwoo’s hair as she fell asleep on her shoulder, she’d never know what it’s like to wake up next to her warm body in the morning, wearing each other’s clothes, and then slipping out of bed to make each other breakfast.

   Maybe wanting was better than believing.

 

-

 

   It’s when Somin almost breaks down in the middle of dance practice that she stops believing in what she wants.

   Only a little.

   Somin had been doing her best to spend as much time with Jiwoo as possible, but it wasn’t easy when Jiwoo was a social butterfly who could really strike up a conversation with anyone.

   So when Jiwoo came into dance practice one day, telling everyone about the cute guy that she had a conversation with at the clothing store that she visited all the time, Somin wanted to scream.

   Of course, she had no right to feel so possessive. Jiwoo was allowed to talk about whoever she wanted, to date whoever she wanted. They didn’t exactly have a dating ban, and Jiwoo didn’t really say that she was going to _date_ him, but Somin was still mad, because Jiwoo was talking about this perfect guy with dark hair, and dimples and who apparently was really tall and could play the guitar.

   “So, you’re going to go for it or what?” Matthew asked Jiwoo during their break.

   Jiwoo took a sip of her water. “Go for what?”

   “You know, are you going to ask him out? Is he going to ask you out? What’s the next step?”

   Jiwoo bit her lip, slowly shaking her head. “It’s not that simple, oppa.”

   But still, that didn’t stop Somin from feeling like her heart had been ripped out of her chest. The reality of the situation had hit her: it would never happen, it could never happen. Jiwoo was straight, and even if she wasn’t, it didn’t seem like she wanted to date anyone.

   It was in the middle of practice when Somin couldn’t take it anymore, and it showed. Her dancing was off, her mood was off, and it was blatantly obvious to everyone else.

   “Somin-”

   “What?” She flicked her hair over her shoulder to look at an anxious looking Matthew, who held out a bottle of water to her. “I already have one.”

   “This one has ice,” he said. Somin took it without another word, deciding not to take out her anger on him. Somin took a large gulp, trying to look at him. She could see Jiwoo and Taehyung out the corner of her eye, either talking about her or Mr. Perfect.

   Somin didn’t know which option annoyed her more.

   “Wanna talk about it?” Matthew offered.

   “No.” Somin leaned against the mirror, crossing her arms across her chest, staring up at the ceiling.

   _Don’t look at her, don’t look at her. Don’t. Look._

She could feel her temperature rising, and not because of the dancing. She quickly blinked her eyes, hoping that wouldn’t cry. She wasn’t crying over this. Not now.

   “Somin.” Matthew didn’t hesitate. He lightly grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her out of the room with him. They stood opposite each other in the hallway, not as far away as Somin would like to be, but far enough. Matthew stood politely, waiting for Somin to say something, _anything_.

   Somin let out a deep breath, letting a couple of gentle tears fall. She wiped them away with the tips of her shaky hands.

   “Is it obvious?”

   “No,” Matthew said. “I’ve only just realised, actually.”

   Somin shook her head. “I don’t know what to do. I’m…I’m in love with her, and I know I’m being delusional, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Thinking about her. It’s not…it’s not the same as you and Taehyung.”

   Matthew furrowed his brows. “What about me and Taehyung?”

   Somin was too tired to argue. She didn’t really care whether Matthew and Taehyung were together. The point was that if they wanted to be, they could be. She didn’t have that luxury with Jiwoo.

   “You two just clicked,” Somin explained.

   “We’ve known each other for five years, Somin. Those five years weren’t easy,” Matthew reminded her. “You and Jiwoo have only known each other for five months.”

   And in those five months, Somin had fallen so terribly, horribly and deeply in love with everything about Jiwoo. She loved the way that she laughed at herself when she said something a little questionable, she loved how she always kept them updated with pictures of everything going in, she loved how Jiwoo wanted to experiment with everything. Whether it was hair colours, music, a new hobby, a new person-

   Except, not that last one.

   Somin doesn’t really remember how she made it through dance practice.

   What she does remember is lying on Matthew’s shoulder as they watched an old anime movie, her eyes damp. Somin can’t remember the title, but she does remember wondering whether Jiwoo would like the movie. She doesn’t remember the ending, but she does remember Jiwoo saying that she didn’t like anime when they first met. The three of them had heart attacks then and there; Somin grabbed Jiwoo’s shoulder, and told her that she’d be introduced to the wonderful world of Miyazaki and beyond.

   And then Somin remembered that Jiwoo wanted to go to the movies with Mr. Perfect, and she wanted to cry again. She cried quite a bit that night, to be truthful. Matthew was as patient as ever, and listened to Somin’s incomprehensive mumbling as she cried on and off throughout the movie.

   She wanted to ask Matthew if he’d ever had the same doubts with Taehyung, but then she thought twice, and realised that Matthew may not want to talk about it. Maybe they weren’t even really together. Not in the way that Matthew wanted.

   Not everyone had what they wanted.

   Then she was asleep. She had a dream that she was in the middle of the rain. The clouds were grey, if she was optimistic, she’d call them silver. It was completely pouring down. Somin was in the middle a field, arms outspread, letting the rain fall on her face, the droplets running down her forehead, arms, neck.

   She was alone in the field, but in that field, she was with the rain.

   Somin wanted to cry.

 

-

 

   It’s at the end of their next dance practice when Jiwoo is sweating, her transparent white t-shirt clinging to her body, blue sports bra slightly visible. It’s when Jiwoo lifts her arms to tie her hair into a ponytail, panting as she does so. It’s when a hot, a very very hot and sweating Jiwoo tilts her head back as she takes a gulp her water that Somin realises.

   This isn’t ever going to go away.

 

-

 

_7:59PM Somin where are you ~_

_8:31PM Somin! I can’t be with the boys right now (¬_¬)_

_8:35PM if you know what I mean_

   Somin stared at the messages on her phone. Vocal practice had just ended for her. She trained separately from the others, and was grateful for it. After coming out of the shower, she found her phone alight with messages from Jiwoo, the ink black letters flashing on the screen.

   Somin didn’t know whether to throw her phone, or hug it. This happened every time Jiwoo sent her a private message, even if it was just a weather warning or telling her about another awkward third wheel moment with Matthew and Taehyung.

   Somin immediately replied, biting her lip, hoping that she didn’t sound too desperate.

_8:49PM Jeon Jiwoo (_ _￣▽￣)_ _ノI’m only out of the shower_

   Before she’d even put her phone down, Jiwoo had replied:

_8:49PM I will come to collect you, then (_ _ノ^_ _∇^)_

   It took three reads for Somin to understand what she’d just read, four reads for it to register, and five for her to finally react.

   Jiwoo was coming to her dorm. Right now.

   But why?

   Her hands fumbled through her closet – the irony – as she attempted to find something suitable to wear, which wasn’t easy, as Jiwoo had probably seen Somin wear all of her clothes at least five times. There was only so much you could do with seven sets of clothes.

   Maybe she’d have more clothes after they debuted.

   If.

   That was another thing that Somin wanted.

   Before Somin was even fully dressed, there was a swift knock on the door.

   “Sominie, it’s Jeon Jiwoo.”

   Somin silently swore. She only had her jeans on, since she could absolutely not find that one t-shirt that Matthew bought for her in America, the one that Jiwoo said looked nice on her every time she wore it, the pink one, _that one_.

   “Somin, are you all right?”

   She wasn’t. Because she wasn’t fully dressed, and the one girl that she actually loved in every way that it was possible to love a person was on the other side of the door, asking to come in.

   “Yes, I’m…give me a second,” Somin called. “I’m just, I’m-”

   She could hear Jiwoo laughing. “There’s nothing to hide from me, Somin. Just pick something to wear,” she said. “You’ll look pretty, anyway.”

   Somin thanked herself for not opening the door, otherwise she would be blushing, topless in front of Jiwoo, and Jiwoo would think that she was weirder than she was.

   Once Somin had picked something – a black and white striped turtleneck – she opened the door, looking like a discount version of Jiwoo, who was always managed to look effortlessly gorgeous no matter what she wore.

   (“Chic and classy,” Jiwoo said when she saw her outfit. Somin had to pretend that wasn’t getting hot just by having Jiwoo look her up and down like that. Straight girls did that, too.)

   “Let’s go and get coffee,” Jiwoo said. “It’s on me.”

  

-

 

   Somin didn’t really like coffee; she preferred tea.

   But if Jiwoo said that she wanted to go and get coffee, Somin would happily spend every second with her, nodding her head, pretending that she knew what the difference between a latte and a cappuccino was.

   Somin watched her own cup of chestnut swirl as she spun her spoon around it. She wasn’t fond of hot drinks, and Starbucks for some reason liked to make their drinks boiling hot.

   “It’s only hot chocolate,” Jiwoo said from the other side of the booth. “It won’t come out to bite you.”

   “I haven’t had hot chocolate since I was twelve.” Somin had no idea why she felt the need to share that piece of information, as if it was part of an origin story.

   “You’ll like it. Take a sip,” Jiwoo was sat, leaning on the seat. She was on her phone, and Somin knew exactly what was coming next.

   “You just want to take a picture of me,” Somin accused her.

   “Who said I haven’t already taken one?”

   Somin stared at her. Jiwoo’s eyes glanced up, and if Somin didn’t know any better, she’d say that this very scene could be taken out of a happy, teen romance movie. Except, they weren’t teens, nor were they in a movie.

   Jiwoo lifted her phone up, taking another picture.

   “I wasn’t ready, Jeon Jiwoo,” Somin pretended to cover her face in embarrassment, her fingers just slightly poking out of the long sleeves.

   “You still look beautiful.” Somin pretended to not see Jiwoo smiling at her phone, and if Somin was completely delusional, she’d say that Jiwoo looked at the photo of her in a similar vein to how Matthew looked at a sleeping Taehyung.

   But Somin wasn’t _that_ delusional.

   She lifted up her cup, and took a small sip. The hot liquid ran down her throat, it didn’t taste as bitter as she remembered it did all those years ago. The cup was under being unbearably hot, but Somin kept her hand firmly gripped around it. She continued to drink, knowing full well that Jiwoo was watching her, taking more pictures that won’t be uploaded to Instagram.

   Somin thought of her dream, where she was alone in the rain.

   She wanted Jiwoo to hold her.

 

-

 

   “How long have they been together?” Jiwoo asked Somin one day. They were cramped in Jiwoo’s room at her parents’ home. They were both out of Seoul, and Jiwoo enjoyed watering the plants there. Or just plants in general, because her room was full of them.

   Jiwoo lied on her front, on her bed, with her phone in front of her, as usual. Somin was on a large cushion on the floor, a random, month old wedding magazine on her knees.

   (Jiwoo’s mother liked weddings, even if she was already happily married. That’s why there were so many of them around the house.)

   Somin didn’t have to ask about who Jiwoo was talking about. It had been the elephant in the room for months now, and it was only a matter of time before it was addressed.

   “I…I don’t know,” Somin admitted. “I thought that they’d always been like that. But then I thought about it more, and-”

   “You saw things differently?” suggested Jiwoo.

   She glanced up, her blonde hair falling perfectly around her soft face. The reflection of the sunset made her look angelic, unearthly, even. Somin had to remind herself to actually breathe.

   Somin blinked.

   “I-I’m happy for them,” Somin stuttered.

   “So am I,” said Jiwoo. “I’m just curious.”

   Somin tried to think about it. She’d spent five years with them, she of all people should know.

   “Remember when Matthew oppa kept pretending that his Korean was awful?”

   Jiwoo smiled at that. “Ah, how could I forget? He was always stumbling over words and mispronouncing things, and then he would look at Taehyung oppa like this,” she imitated the exact look of a lost puppy, with big eyes and furrowed eyebrows. “And Taehyung would spend ten minutes going over a sentence with him…”

   Somin watched the realisation cross her face, and when it did, Jiwoo nodded in understanding. The truth was, Matthew’s Korean wasn’t half as bad as he pretended it was. One day, Matthew stopped speaking in his fake broken Korean, and Somin guessed that that was the day that things between the two of them changed.

   They stayed in silence for another hour or so. It wasn’t awkward, because silence meant that another person’s presence could be enjoyed. When Somin wasn’t pretending that she was reading the magazine, she stole glances up at Jiwoo, who looked beautiful in every shade of the sun as it set for night time.

   She wondered if Jiwoo had taken any pictures.

   “I want a spring wedding,” Jiwoo said. Somin blinked again. She then remembered that she was supposed to be reading a wedding magazine.

   “M-me too,” she replied. Jiwoo looked up, chuckling at her. “What?”

   “Nothing,” Jiwoo said. “Nothing at all."

 

-

 

   Jiwoo insisted on Somin sleeping in the Jiwoo’s room. Somin obliged, because they’d spent far too long deciding on the sleeping arrangements.

   Originally, they were going to sleep in the same room, until Jiwoo remembered that the sleeping bag was in the attic, and she didn’t have the key. So then Jiwoo jokingly suggested that they both sleep in Jiwoo’s bed.

   (“There’s enough room, Sominie. No need to worry.”)

   Somin hoped that it was joke.

   She offered to sleep on the couch, which Jiwoo looked horrified at the idea of.

   (“No, no, no. It’s okay. You sleep here and I’ll go to my parents’ room.”)

   And that’s why Somin lay wide awake on Jiwoo’s bed, at goodness knows what time, wearing one of Jiwoo’s old nightdresses because Somin forgot to pack anything to sleep in.

   It was green.

   Did this count? She was wearing Jiwoo’s clothes, in Jiwoo’s bed, except she wasn’t with Jiwoo.

   Did it count?

 

-

 

   Somin had a dream that she was falling. She doesn’t know where from, or where to. All she knew was that she was falling and it was daytime and it looked like she was outside.

   It wasn’t raining.

   She was wearing Jiwoo’s green nightdress. Bottle green to be, precise. She was falling, and falling and she didn’t know when she’d stop. She wanted to stop.

   She wanted Jiwoo to catch her.

 

-

 

   “We should go out,” Matthew said one day after dance practice. At least, that’s what she thought he said. Her ears were drumming way too much after a 2x faster version of the choreography they’d been learning. She was too tired to think straight – irony – her muscles ached, and she didn’t need to look in the mirror to know that she was a sweaty mess.

   Somin was _not_ going to look at Jiwoo and she was _not_ going to get turned on at the sight of Jiwoo standing there, hot, clothes clinging to her sweating body, panting-

   “Who?” Jiwoo eyed him. Matthew furrowed his eyebrows.

   “The four of us,” he replied as if it was obvious.

   Jiwoo shrugged her shoulders, raising her own eyebrows. “Just checking.” She glanced at Taehyung, who looked right back at her as if she hadn’t said anything.

   “There’s a new club opening tonight,” Matthew continued. “We should go.”

   Somin almost sighed. As much as she loved the freedom that DSP gave them – they were allowed phones, they didn’t have to live in the dorms if they didn’t want to, they were allowed to go clubbing and drink and date – Somin couldn’t deal with going out right now. Her muscles were sore, and she could feel bad cramps coming along. Plus, today was Tuesday. What kind of action will be happening at a club on Tuesday?

   “I can’t,” Jiwoo said. “I’m going out tonight.”

   The other three paused and stared at her. Somin’s breathing increased – and once again, not because of dancing.

   Taehyung finally raised his eyebrows when Jiwoo didn’t elaborate. “Are you going to walk your goldfish, or…?”

   Jiwoo blinked, and then shook her head.

   “I’m going on a date,” she said. “With Minhyuk.”  

   If Somin could describe what it felt like to have your heart ripped out of your chest, she’d say that it was an oxymoron of feeling both hot and cold at the same time. Drenched in water, sadness and pain, burning like a fire and fuel. She wanted to rip out her hair, burst into tears, and pull Jiwoo close and kiss her roughly, all at the same time.

   Of course she couldn’t have what she wanted. Of course Jiwoo didn’t like girls, and even if she did, she would never see Somin that way. She’d never want to be with Somin the same way that Somin wanted to be with her. She wanted to get coffee with her and take all those pictures of her because they were _friends_ , she let Somin sleep in her old, bottle green nightdress because they were _friends_ and that’s what friends did for each other. She stayed up late texting Somin, sending extra selcas to Somin, taking time out to go to Somin’s dorm and spend hours of silence with her, because they were _friends_.

   Somin wanted to cry.

   She started breathing deeply. Too deeply, because before a minute even passed, Matthew and Taehyung were by her side. For once, she was thankful that she was so short, because their large frames hid her face from Jiwoo.

   She was not going to cry.

   “Somin?” Matthew said.

   She was going to cry.

   “Let’s go,” Taehyung grabbed her hand, pulling another arm around her. Somin couldn’t hear or understand anything else, because her ears were ringing way too much, and her eyes were filled with so many tears that she could barely see anything around her.

   If Jiwoo didn’t know before, she definitely knew now.

   She shouldn’t have been so delusional. Jiwoo knew not to bring up Mr. Perfect around Somin, that didn’t mean that Jiwoo stopped thinking about him.

   And Jiwoo going on a date with Mr. Perfect didn’t mean that Somin would stop talking about her.

   Somin breathed deeply in the hallway, her hands shaking as she tried to wipe the first couple of tears away.

   This couldn’t be happening, yet it was.

   Not everyone could have what they wanted.

   Taehyung pulled Somin into his arms, and as thankful as she was, couldn’t help but dream about being in Jiwoo’s arms instead.

 

-

 

   Heartbreak felt like falling. It felt like being pushed off a building by someone you trusted, and constantly falling, wanting to be caught by someone, anyone, but knowing full well that the one person who could catch you is the one who pushed you in the first place.

   Somin wanted Jiwoo to catch her.

 

-

 

   Somin wanted too many things.

   She wanted to dye her hair black again (DSP said no), she wanted to watch My Neighbour Totoro, but Matthew and Taehyung had borrowed the DVD and had yet to return it to her, she wanted to try Starbucks hot chocolate again.

   She wanted Jiwoo.

   She wanted to sleep, to dream again. She wanted another dream like the one of her in the rain, free and clean, pure, even though she knew that she wasn’t any of those things.

   She cried into Taehyung for a good twenty minutes. Taehyung didn’t say anything, but she knew that he knew.

   (“Did Matthew tell you?” “Since when did he know? Matthew didn’t say anything to me.” “I thought that since you’re…you know.”)

   Taehyung refused to let go of her until she could stop crying. She told him that she wasn’t planning on going anyway, since she had bad cramps, which wasn’t a lie. Taehyung went with it, and passed on the message.

   Somin hadn’t seen Jiwoo since.

   They’d usually be texting at this time, but she was probably getting ready for her date with Mr. Perfect. Getting dressed up the way that she sometimes, does, claiming that she’s terrible at make-up, when her eyeliner was immaculate and her soft lips were an alluring shade of red.

   She didn’t want to think about it.

   She briefly considered texting Matthew and asking for her copy of My Neighbour Totoro back, but then he’d probably offer to come over, and Somin just couldn’t deal with any interaction right now. It had already taken her an hour long phone call to convince Matthew that she was indeed, all right, and they didn’t need to come over.

   What she needed was time to rest, to breathe, to cry again if she needed to.

   Somin settled for watching Howl’s Moving Castle. The one that Matthew and Taehyung found weird, but the one that Jiwoo called ‘interesting’.

   Somin was going to crack a knuckle if she subconsciously brought up Jiwoo again.

   That wasn’t happening. It was over.

 

-

 

   If Somin could give herself any advice it would be the following:

  1. Trust your instincts.
  2. Look at the bigger picture.
  3. Alone time is just as valuable as social time.
  4. Always carry lip balm with you.
  5. Never, ever read over old text messages.



 

-

 

   It’s when Somin was about to fall asleep, at 9PM because she was far too tired for this, that she heard a soft knock at her door.

   She shot upright, the movie still running, her hair falling around her. She checked the time again, to be sure that she was hearing it right. A part of her hoped that Matthew had somehow read her mind and bought back her rightful copy of My Neighbour Totoro.

   The knock came again. Somin dragged herself out of her bed, grabbing a light jacket on the way to the door, because she didn’t want to answer the door while wearing a vest top and shorts.

   Somin slowly opened the door. If hearts could skip a beat, then hers had leaped to the ends of the earth.

   Jiwoo was beautiful – she knew that much, but the sight of Jiwoo standing in front of her door, with a pizza box in her hand, the other shamelessly clutching her phone, a sheepish smile on her face, was more breath-taking than any mountain view, more than any Miyazaki movie could ever be.

   “Jeon Jiwoo,” Somin whispered. “Why-”

   Jiwoo shook her head. “Can I come in?”

   Somin opened the door for her. The scent of Jiwoo’s perfume mixed with coffee filled her nostrils as she walked past. Jiwoo set down the pizza and her phone on a nearby table, and then a hand through her hair.

   Somin had to close her mouth.

   “I told Minhyuk no,” she began. “I did go on a date with him, and then I said…I said that I just wanted to be friends.” Jiwoo looked at her, and Somin finally processed what she’d said.

   This couldn’t be true.

   “I…” Her throat was too dry for this. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything; what was she supposed to say? If she tried to tell Jiwoo the evident truth, it would all come overflowing like a river, like tired tears. There were so many things that Somin wanted to say, she wanted to Jiwoo that she loved her, how much she loved her, in all the ways that she loved her. She wanted to scream it all from the very mountain tops that she just doubted, to write it down, and to whisper it in her ear alone.

   In the end, all she could bring herself to say was “Jeon Jiwoo.”

   “Why do you always call me Jeon Jiwoo?” she challenged, her arms folded. Somin bit her lip.

   “Because I love your name,” she whispered. “And I love you. I love you, Jeon Jiwoo, and I’ve grown to love in these five months that I’ve known you. I couldn’t say that I loved you since the minute I saw you, because it’s not true. I…” Somin had to stop herself, taking in another deep breath as she thought this through. If she had been falling the entire time, this was how she was going to land.

   She was going to catch herself.

   “I fell in love with the way that you try to hide your smile when you laugh, but end up laughing anyway. I fell in love with your humour, your teasing, your love for plants and picturesque places. I fell in love with how you take pictures of everything and everyone around you, not to post them online, but because you want to, because you find beauty in everything, even though you’re by far the most beautiful thing I’ve ever known,” Somin said. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.”

   Jiwoo stood opposite her, not close enough to touch, but close enough for her to pull Somin into her arms and kiss her softly.

   Jiwoo’s lips are warm against her own, kissing with all of the love that they had for each other. Somin wanted to show Jiwoo what her words couldn’t, what they never would. What she’d wanted to say since she knew, how she felt all those months ago when Jiwoo stopped them all in the middle of the street, because she noticed a small, knocked over potted plant and she wanted to pick it up.

   Somin watched her do it, and before she knew it, she was in love, soil covered hands and all.

   And now they were here, Somin’s lips on Jiwoo’s. If Jiwoo was the sun personified, then Somin was the moon. Jiwoo was warm, she always was, and Somin needed her heat. Her hands enveloped Jiwoo’s waist, and she pulled her closer, as close as they could be, their lips never parting, not wanting to. Not yet.

   Eventually, they did.

   “I bought pizza,” Jiwoo said.

   “I know,” replied Somin. “But I don’t want pizza. I want you.”

   If all the stars in the sky could somehow be pressed into one person, it would be Jeon Jiwoo. The way that her eyes sparkled when she smiled could put the stars to shame, her smile was enough to end wars – or start them. And the way that she smiled at Somin then and there, despite the lack of resemblance, was almost identical to the same way that Matthew looked at Taehyung – the same warmth and admiration, the same love.

   Sometimes, you didn’t need a person to catch you.

 

-

 

   Somin fell asleep that night hot – and not just because of the weather – in her own bed, but with Jiwoo by her side.

   They were both hot, but refused to sleep without the covers, because they were still children at heart who were convinced that going to sleep without a duvet was an invitation for an alien invasion of some sort.

   It smelt like sex. The bedsheets would need changing tomorrow; Somin knew that much.

   Jiwoo actually bought her old nightdress; the ugly bottle green one, that Somin wore those nights ago, and that she was wearing now. Jiwoo wore Somin’s clothes, and they both lay in bed, eye to eye, arms wrapped around each other like they were the only thing keeping the other alive.

   Jiwoo was fast asleep, lying, beautiful and doll-like, her long eyelashes still, a work of art right before her.

   Somin wanted to kiss her, to feel her again, her back arched for her, but she didn’t. She was happy to watch her girlfriend – she had a _girlfriend,_ right in front of her.

   Somin wanted to know what she was dreaming about.

   Maybe, she dreamt of the rain.

**Author's Note:**

> i originally wrote some smut to go in this fic, but i didn't want to bump up the rating, and it felt too out of place, so i left it out. 
> 
> this also wasn't beta'd, so i'd appreciate any grammatical or spelling corrections.
> 
> thank you so much for reading this!! stan KARD.
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/raventiques)


End file.
